Best Conformity Poems
"You are ... different, aren't you?" she said, crinkling her nose.
That sentiment, spoken by my fourth grade home-room teacher
Had been paraphrased many times before
(And would be countless times again)
Different, unusual, odd, weird, curious, complex, or just plain strange
Those were the kind ones - the ones I can repeat
My favorite, however, was "unique"
The day my mother put it into that sensible little frame, I knew ...
I ... was HOME.
You see, we creative folk
Are not put on this good earth to "fit" into it
We are not molded to be a status quo part of society
But rather, set apart FROM society
Our gifts are granted us in order to change the world
Not continue the order of its mundane spin
We are interpreters of the language of beauty and ingenuity
We weave expression and imagination into what's tangible and visible
Turning ideas and emotions to the substance of words and color and sound
Bringing light and clarity to variation and choice
We are the very children of NON-conformity
Living proof that acquiescence and conventionality stifle the human spirit
We are soldiers of vision, innovation, cleverness, and inspiration
Fighting the war on commonplace, submission and docility
Battling daily in the name of ALL who are unlike the Average Joe
And bringing inspiration to the world.
So, do I think I'm "special"?
Yes, for we are ALL special ... every single human is born with unique gifts
Ours - the artistic talents - just happen to be of a creative fashion.
Yes, I am odd, strange, weird, different, unusual, and unique ...
And I am BLESSED ... to be so.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "CReAtiVe CoNForMiTy" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
I have my
S
P
U
I have my
D
O
W
N
S
But I’m determined to
H
A
N
G
a
d r
n o
u
I’ll make you laugh
I’ll make you cry
Till I hang up my pen and lay down to die
Creative Conformity Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
10/13/18
I have a lovely daughter, who is a lovely mess,
for every rule you give her, she will have to test.
She’s always just inside the lines or balanced on the top.
She loves to challenge all the rules to see how they will flop.
My favorite of her hurdles was the school uniform,
and she was delighted to best this strict form of norm.
A uniform would be an insult to her fashion sense.
As her mother, I suspected the rules would soon be mince.
She wore exactly what they said: khakis, belt, white top.
You've probably guessed, though thusly dressed she did not stop.
Smiling like an actress in a play,
she wore a striped scarf with red beret.
Her belt was wide and trendy,
her shoes, black boots to knee.
A voguish olive blazer was her “coat.”
Stylishly outfitted
and with the rules outwitted,
the books she carried seemed a lighter tote...
The "book bag," after all, was a fabulous new purse!
and...
Her creative conformity sent the principal to the nurse.
There is something to be learned here, as I reflect on this bright girl.
Without the rules before them, there’d be no rebels in the world.
11/2/2018
Evil thrives under a cloak of silence,
having a keen ear for the slightest sound.
And will react with violence and threats:
to trample any form of protest down.
Truth fuels a cacophony of noise,
where whispers morph into a crescendo.
But our fears are fed a diet of lies:
addressing queries with innuendo.
While we are silent, we're invisible,
lost in the shadows of conformity.
And under the shield of complicity:
we hide society's deformity.
Kids are taught to stay quiet, not to shout:
for a fly does not enter a closed mouth.
Creative Conformity, an oxymoron.
No other explanation for I cannot fathom this term in any other way
What has already been, cannot be construed as creative.
And conformity has been done
And done
And done
And done
And done.
Overdone, to the point of ridiculousness.
Nothing creative about it.
If you ask me.
But what do I know?
I am only a poet,
An artist,
A painter,
A designer,
And a dreamer.
So please
Do not ask me.
Go inside your heart
And get the answer.
Written 10-09-2018 Contest: Creative Conformity
Sponsor: John Lawless
There comes a time
We ask ourselves
The why of what we do
What is the use of writing poetry
Do I write to express myself or to be read
If I have to conform to someone’s rules
Am I writing for me or am I writing for them
Afterall do they want to read my deepest feelings
Do they want to read everything I have to say
Will they appreciate the way I want to write it
Am I writing for me or am I writing to be read
Am I still creating if I am overthinking
Isn’t creativity being fundamentally original
Expressing what comes from within
Totally unrelated to outside demands
Does everything really need a purpose
Isn’t the purest form of creation
Basically the urge of needing an outlet
Be it as an explosion or pure mountain spring
Aren’t creativity and conformity
The epitome of polarities and paradoxes
Contradictory by their very nature
Read on air by invitation ~ August 21, 2022 'POETS HARBOUR'
AP: 3rd place 2022, 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2026
Submitted on May 23, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE S sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
There are those who heedlessly follow the crowd
There are also a few who singularly continually do not
Some of these do it to be different, while some just are
They dance to their own voice, hear a different drummer
It is not at all easy to be different, it has its price
Some think the journey worth it, others soon capitulate
Now when you are different, if you are a deep thinker
Then sometimes you may even question your own reasoning
For some through life, it is a continual questioning why
Why am I so different, why do I always have to do what I do
Others don’t not give a stuff, they simply do what they want
For some, life makes them different, without even asking
Some different in looks, in circumstance, mind or body
Others so unique, making discoveries conquering the unknown
Some even take their difference and turn them into sheer evil
They take our world and fill it with non- conforming haters
They are people who believe that all must sing to their tune
They want to sway the populace to their ways of non-conformity
And in their non -conformity to the norm, it turns into conformity
Sub-cultures are formed to get away from the traditional values
Goth, Metal head, pieced tongues, shaven heads, and dread hawks
All eventually without even realizing it living in total compliance
The non- conformist therefore has to be a loner not a group culture
To be different is to be true to oneself and stand there out on a limb
This is a hard road to travel, and certainly not one that is easy to tread.
it is complete --
protestations of the existentialists notwithstanding --
the end of history.
Science is here.
slammed over me.
and everywhere
the necessity of Standardization.
in my labor
and in my thought
Capitalism dictates.
efficiency is the new God,
except for the God-people themselves of course
who experience choice
and embrace the Absurd
as i spectate.
now, hidden by a lifetime of fantasy
or tortured by enlightenment
either way, bound by survival to succumb:
i release my mind to the Average.
where is Meaning?
A teacher steps in front of a class.
“Today we will be learning…”
Your bias?
Your inability to respect us?
The fact that you don’t want to be here?
Her mouth continues to move but I can’t zone back in.
Why do we attend class?
So we all think the same?
To never improve our economy?
I pay for a professor to take away my creativity.
She gives me an “A” for conformity.
Every teacher teaches with his or her own style,
Each student thinks with their own opinions.
No person gets the same education.
The one thing we all learn is there’s no such thing as accepted individuality.
They say reach for the stars,
But the curriculum chains our arms down.
One would suggest- think outside the box
What is a box?
Is it adults’ inability to heed?
The parameters of others intelligence’s demise?
To think outside; to exceed,
Though society isolates and punishes when we do.
You demand our ideas not be connected.
How can we do this when we are required to posses the same perspective?
Were brought up to follow.
If you have to think outside the box, why is there even a box?
Why not get rid of it?
Better yet…
Then the teacher regains my focus and asks,
“Taylor, what do you think?”
I allow silence to fill the room and take time to respond,
“..Destroy it”
Hollow hearts and empty minds
frozen as we turn.
Terror lies in what one finds
if he dare attempts to learn.
Another road is often best,
though traversed the very least.
And the tide of ignorance never crests,
but thrives on knowledge ceased.
To a rocky death with the herd,
you'll succumb to the insanity.
Just remember now my final word:
surrender destroys humanity.
Creative conformity
For the majority
Is something in which to take pride
I love getting dressed up
But usually end up
To my detriment out dressing the bride
be a follower
afraid to be the real you
conformists all lose
just lap dog fame
disingenuous is your name,
cookie-cutter fame
deceit fills your day
selling your soul to belong
empty shell on sand
2/27/2023
Conformity
Shackles
The
Mind
Creativity
Squashed
Pacing
The
Hopeless
Cul-de-sac
Swallowing
The
Dregs
Of
Society.
How are you my pet?
Have all you need?
Are you all set?
Have all your wants and needs met?
Good, now it’s time to pay
With your vote for me today
Prove your loyalty and appreciation
To further our political masturbation
Of you my obedient pet
Just obey
And please don’t fret
We need your mindless conformity
As we employ our brand of deformity
Time to keep quiet and do as your told
As we bring you to heel
If I may be so bold
It’s the same story
That’s old and retold
We prey
You obey
And fit the mold
Of soulless servitude
To the heartless and cold
Surprise, surprise
Your existence has sold
To the lowest bidder
Is what I’m told
Now come my pet
And submit to the F. O. L. D.
(Follow Our Logic Deviant)
Eric (and sometimes not)
I no longer feel numb...
Because the waves are dancing,
and crashing into the shores,
Robins are chirping sweet melodies,
songs that I cannot ignore,
Bliss is a high mountain,
and I'm at its ultimate peek,
I can now love myself,
conformity... I no longer seek,
The floras spread their scent,
while smiling up to the sky,
The ships are sailing, and arms are flailing,
it's time to say goodbye,
I can now love myself,
conformity was a foolish ally.